


A Glass To Freedom

by jack_hunter



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jack_hunter/pseuds/jack_hunter
Summary: "Raise a glass to freedom, something they can never take away no matter what they tell you!"A series of sequential one shots following Kallus and his defection from the Empire. I will update this should I write more, but it can be considered complete. If you have any prompts you would like me to write, please leave them in comments.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus and Zeb are stranded on Bahryn.

**Stranded**

The Geonosian moon was cold, and if things couldn’t get any worse, Kallus was stranded there with  _ Garazeb Orrelios _ of all people. He’d much rather do maintenance duty on a Star Destroyer than be lost for hours with the Lasat as his only company. Kallus shivered and huddled closer to the meteorite. Garazeb seemed to have the same idea as they bumped shoulders, both recoiling slightly before reluctantly moving back closer so they didn’t freeze to death. The snow seemed to be coming down even harder, but the small cave they had found was doing its job at keeping them dry. 

It was strange. As an Imperial Agent, Kallus should resent the Lasat for fighting back against the Empire, for rebelling against the cause Kallus had sworn his life to, but he didn’t. He felt… respect for the fellow warrior. He felt an understanding for the actions his enemy took. It was deeply disturbing. He should despise Garazeb, not be feeling sympathy for him! Curse the cold, it must be what was making him feel so… soft. 

“Kallus,” came Garazeb’s voice, and Kallus opened his eyes. When did he close them? His head was slumped over with his chin on his chest, so he looked up and over at Garazeb. “You can sleep, if you want. I’ll keep watch.” Kallus wanted to refuse. He wasn’t stupid enough to let his guard down when an enemy was nearby, but his body told him not to listen to his brain and soon his eyes were closing again. An arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him closer. Kallus was too tired to fight it. Was Garazeb always that soft? He felt like a pillow. Maybe he could just take a small nap. It’s not like they were gonna be going anywhere. 


	2. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus and his time undercover in the Empire as Fulcrum.

**Undercover**

It was easy to sneak around the stormtroopers. Most of them turned a blind eye when something was beyond their pay grade. The officers were a little more difficult to get past, but with one word from Kallus most went scurrying away without a question. It was just a matter of hacking into the security cameras to put them on a loop and erase any trace of his presence in the system after downloading the information he needed. Then, on his next visit to the Lothal surface, sneak off to the old comms tower and send a message to the rebellion with the code phrase “ _ by the light of Lothal’s moons _ ”. It became much of a routine, not too much of one that people suspected him, but so far he was doing his duty as  _ Fulcrum  _ and it made Kallus feel happy. Happier than he had felt in years. 

To give Garazeb all the credit for his defection to the Rebellion would be an overstatement, but the Lasat had been one of the biggest influences. It was their time on Bahryn that helped Kallus to see just what he was missing, to see that the Empire were the ones in the wrong and that they needed to be stopped. He realised they did not care about the people of the Galaxy like they claimed, that everyone was just expendable in their eyes. They’d given up searching for him after just a few hours. Perhaps a part of him thought that he mattered enough for someone to care, but not even Konstantine paid him any attention when he first returned to the Star Destroyer. 

With his rare day of leave, Kallus found himself back on Lothal and speeding off out of the city. He did some browsing of the market - or what remained of it under the Empire’s iron fist - just to throw anyone off his trail should they be following him. He walked the most of the way to the old communications tower, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself, but a speeder was waiting for him where it always was behind a large gathering of rocks. 

Every part of his training at the Academy was screaming at him, saying he should turn himself in for his traitorous actions, but the more rational and much louder part of his mind told him no. That part, which sounded suspiciously like a very familiar voice, told him he was doing the right thing, even if he was a little late to the party. Kallus chose to listen to that part of his mind, letting it guide him out to the tower where he fired up the old transmitter and spoke those words, “ _ by the light of Lothal’s moons _ ”. 

He would have to return to the Empire afterwards. He would have to become Agent Kallus again and continue to hunt down the rebels he now worked for. He would have to order stormtroopers to fire at his new allies - not that they knew who he was - and watch as many died by his command. He would have to go back to being the bad guy, but all that could wait just a few more hours as Kallus sat inside the old tower, thinking of his actions, past and present. A part of him prayed his choices would be enough to help undo the hurt he had caused, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the case. 

All that could wait for another day. 


	3. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus is rescued by the Ghost after Atollon

**Lost and Found**

Every part of him ached. His chest felt bruised, his eye was sure to turn black, his lip was still bleeding and his old injury from Bahryn was flaring up in ways worse than ever. Kallus slumped into the chair of the escape pod, numbly transmitting coordinates and praying that someone in the Rebellion would receive his message and come and get him before the Empire did. 

He’d been caught. Thrawn had known and used Kallus to find Atollon. It was Kallus’ fault that the Rebellion lost their base, that they weren’t able to make their attack on Lothal anymore. He’d watched from the bridge as _Phoenix Nest_ sacrificed itself to take out  the interdictor cruiser, watched as ship after ship was shot from the sky. All that destruction and loss was on him because he wasn’t smart enough to realise Thrawn had been onto him for weeks. His head span, pulsing painfully. 

A shadow came flying his way and before he knew it, his escape pod connected with the hull of the  _ Ghost _ . Letting out a sigh, Kallus hurried to get to his feet, carefully scrambling to the exit and onto the  _ Ghost  _ where General Dodonna - of all people - was waiting with a hand reached out. Kallus took the hand and pulled himself up, following the General without question up a ladder and down a hallway to the cockpit of the ship. There wasn’t time to look around. Inside the cockpit, Garazeb, Captain Syndulla, the Jedi Kanan and the Clone trooper - Rex, was it? - were waiting for them, making the jump to hyperspace second after they arrived. The stars turned into streaks and Kallus reached for the back of a seat to steady himself. 

Everything fell silent for a moment as their journey through hyperspace began. Kallus, along with everyone else, let out a sigh of relief. They escaped. They were safe, for now. How long for, though, was another question. Everyone began to move, rushing to help those they had picked up during the evacuation. Kallus found himself leaning against the wall in the hallway, other rebels stood nearby. He thanked Kanan when the Jedi passed, who (to Kallus’ surprise) thanked him in return for his sacrifice. 

Perhaps he had done something good after all?


	4. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the Ghost, Kallus hides his injuries until the Ghost Crew find out and help him.

**Hurt**

Kallus collapsed onto the floor of the hallway, his leg finally giving out after the pain grew too much to bear. He didn’t dare complain. The rebels he had seen with grave injuries took priority over his own - no,  _ all  _ rebels with injuries took priority over his own - so he just stayed there on the hallway floor with his head slightly bowed and his hands wrapped loosely around his stomach. Would they give him medical attention if he asked? A part of him doubted it. His ribs felt cracked, or worse, and his head was pounding more and more by the passing second. He was certain he had a concussion. His lip had stopped bleeding but was swollen and red, his eye black and bruised and swelling shut. Would it hurt for him to close his eyes for a few minutes to gather himself? Probably, he could have a concussion. Actually, he was pretty sure he had a concussion. 

Kallus didn’t pay attention as the rebels filtered out of the hallway to take refuge in the hangar bay where temporary beds had been set up for people to rest. He could see each of them staring at him - at his uniform - as they passed. Some were glaring, others just glanced and hurried on. The information that Kallus was a member of the Alliance had been shared, but many didn’t seem to believe it. It hurt. Kallus had done all he could as Fulcrum -  _ not enough _ , his mind scolded, making him flinch - but he knew that did make up for his past. He would always be known as an  _ Imperial _ , as an  _ enemy _ , no matter how much he tried to make up for his mistakes. 

He had no idea how much time passed, but Captain Syndulla exited the cockpit of the  _ Ghost  _ and Kallus looked up at her, holding his head high. 

“Captain Syndulla-” he began, but she just held up a hand to cut him off. 

“It’s Hera, Kallus,” she informed, “there’s no formalities required on my ship.” Kallus glanced away. That was going to take some getting used to, “have you been seen by the medics yet?” Hera asked him. 

“I’m fine, nothing major,” he replied, climbing up from the floor. His ribs protested but he clambered up, favouring his left leg. Hera raised an eyebrow. 

“I really think you should get checked out,” Hera insisted, but Kallus shook his head, the pounding coming back in full force. 

“There are others who need attention first,” he explained, one hand coming to rest against the wall if only to take more pressure off of his leg. Why did he feel like he was on fire? Hera stared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Was she always this scary? It felt like she was staring into his soul, reading his mind almost. He glanced away. 

“Well,” Hera said after a moment, “if you want something to do, you can help me make some lunch for everyone?” Kallus wanted to say no; if he moved, he was sure he was going to collapse, but he couldn’t. Hera- no,  _ Captain Syndulla  _ was already being kind enough to allow him on her ship. He didn’t need to give her any reason to distrust him more than she already did, probably. Instead, he agreed. Hera motioned for him to go first -  _ of course she would _ , Kallus’ head scolded,  _ why would she want an  _ Imperial  _ behind her? _ \- but Kallus only took one step before everything went black. 

Everything hurt, but it felt sort of… muted. Not stabbing him like before. His head wasn’t pounding as much. His ribs didn’t feel like they were close to snapping. His leg felt numb. Kallus tried to open his eyes, but they felt as heavy as his limbs did. It took a lot of effort but eventually Kallus’ eyes were blinking open to stare at the dark grey of the bunk above him. Where was he? Something warm came to rest on his forehead. It was wet. A cloth. 

“Careful,” a gruff yet surprisingly gentle voice spoke. Kallus’ eyes came into focus and found Zeb leaning over him. The Lasat looked… afraid? Concerned? Worried? All of the above. 

“Wha-” Kallus choked out, voice hoarse, “wh-what happened?” Zeb helped him to sit up against a pillow, his entire body ached as he moved, and brought a cup of water over for him to sip on. Kallus tried not to gulp it down, savouring the feeling against his sore throat. 

“You collapsed, Kal,” Zeb explained, soft hand pressing the cloth more against Kallus’ forehead, “Hera caught you before you hit your head but… your leg was broken and most of your ribs too. Why didn’t you tell us?”

As Zeb explained, Kallus began to feel the bandages wrapped around his chest and the familiar feeling of the bone-knitter working on his leg. The smell of bacta lingered in the air. 

“There were others-”

“So?” Zeb interrupted, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, “we had enough medical supplies for you too. All you had to do was ask.” Kallus let his head fall, and not just because the lights on the ceiling were making his head pound again.  _ Idiot _ , his mind chastised, _ they’re never going to trust you now. You’ve just caused them trouble _ . 

The door opened and in walked Sabine, a tray in her hands. Ezra trailed behind her with a bundle in his arms. Sabine set the tray down the table. A bowl with something hot and steamy was on it, along with a spoon, a mug and a small bottle of pain tablets. The bundle Ezra carried was clothes. Oh. Kallus wasn’t wearing a shirt, a silver chain dangling down from his neck with its small pendant brushing against the bandages that kept the bacta-soaked gauze in place. Thankfully he had been covered in a blanket because he also wasn’t wearing any trousers. 

“Brought you some lunch,” Sabine announced, “and pain meds because you’re really gonna need them with that bone-knitter working.” 

“And Kanan said you could borrow some of his clothes. Don’t worry, we washed them,” Ezra explained, placing them at the foot of the bed. The two kids didn’t stay long, leaving Kallus and Zeb alone whilst bickering as they walked out the door. Zeb grabbed the tray and brought it over. It smelt amazing. Kallus’ arms still felt heavy but he reached for the spoon and shakily ate the soup, not really wanting to lose his dignity and ask Zeb for help. Zeb made sure he ate as much as he could before handing him one of the tablets and holding the mug out for Kallus to take. 

“We have some perigen patches if you need-”

“No!” Kallus nearly shouted. Zeb’s ears shot up in surprise and Kallus shrunk back a bit, “sorry… I-I’m allergic to perigen.” he explained. Zeb’s ears fell and his eyes softened. 

“That’s good to know,” he replied, a hand on Kallus’ shoulder, “I’m gonna go tell Hera that so we can make sure not to give you any. You can get changed whilst I’m gone if you feel up to moving.” With one final smile Zeb got up and left the room. Kallus sighed, quickly taking the tablet and downing some of the water to wash it down. Why did he feel so… safe?


	5. Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst out of commission after his rescue from Thrawn, Kallus doesn’t expect Hera to be so compassionate.

**Compassion**

Yavin IV was busy, but the Ghost felt incredibly empty. Kanan, Sabine, Ezra - no, his name is  _ Jabba  _ and it will be until he stops calling me  _ Sergeant Sideburns _ \- and Chopper were away on Mandalore so it was just Hera, Zeb and himself on board the ship. It felt strange to be allowed to wander the halls of the ship, but he wasn’t allowed to do much else since Command had placed him on medical leave until his leg and ribs were properly healed. Picking his brain could wait but he was welcome to write anything down whilst he rested, they had said but a lot more politely. Kallus had written down everything he knew, his mind and body too exhausted to think any deeper. 

Leaning against the walls of the  _ Ghost _ , Kallus gingerly made his way towards the galley in the hopes of getting something to eat. Hera had said he could help himself to anything he needed and only needed to ask if it was the last of something so it could be added to the shopping list. Each time he placed any sort of pressure on his right leg, blazing pain shot up his entire right side, but he pushed on because he hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch and it was nearly time for dinner. 

Hera was perched at the dejarik table in the common room when Kallus entered, a stack of datapads next to her. She was up from her seat in an instant, hurrying to his side and placing her hand on the small of his back. 

“Is your leg still causing trouble?” she asked him, voice laced with concern as her brow furrowed. She grasped his arm when he nodded, assisting him into the galley and helping him to sit down at the table. Kallus didn’t argue, but it felt… strange. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, leaning back to catch his breath. Hera shook her head, lekku waving behind her. 

“Kallus, please, you can call me Hera,” she insisted. The pilot turned and headed to the Conservator, rummaging around inside for a few containers. “How does toast with jam sound?” she asked him, pulling out the ingredients before reaching into a cupboard for the bread. 

“Ca- Hera, it’s alright, I can make myself some food,” Kallus told her. She just shook her head again. 

“I know, but you need to rest,” she replied, placing the containers on the counter top and opening the bread, placing two slices into the Therma-Slice and then reaching for the Boiler to heat up some water. She grabbed the tea from the highest cupboard. 

Kallus let her work. He didn’t want to get on Hera’s bad side so it was better to just let her fuss over him as she had been for the past week. The Captain had been bringing him food and washing his clothes, making sure he got enough sleep and even tucking him in once. She helped him to wash his hair when he wasn’t able to lift his arms for long enough because of the pain, drying and brushing it too. It was weird. No one had brushed his hair for him since he was a child. Hera placed a plate of toast and a mug of hot tea in front of him, sitting opposite with her own plate. Kallus happily ate the food. 

Hera ate her own lunch but kept an eye on Kallus as she did so. Kallus could feel her gaze. It made him shrink back slightly, slowing his eating when he realised he was nearly stuffing his face. Why was he so hungry? And how did jam on toast taste like the best thing in the Galaxy?

When he finished Hera took his plate and placed them in the sink. “I can do that,” Kallus said, but Hera shook her head again. 

“It’s fine, it’s my turn to do the dishes anyways,” she insisted, “besides, you need to get some sleep.” He did? He wasn’t tired. Kallus yawned. OK, so maybe he was tired. Hera helped him to his feet, one arm around his waist as she half-carried him back to Kanan’s room. The door opened on its own and Hera gently manoeuvred Kallus onto the bunk, mindful of his injured leg and healing ribs. 

“Why are you being so nice?” Kallus asked her, half asleep at this point. He laid down against the pillow as Hera pulled the blanket up to his chin, tucking the sides in. 

“Because you deserve it, Kal, you’re a part of this family now,” she replied, but Kallus had already fallen asleep. Hera stroked his hair, tucking the loose strands behind his ear. 


	6. Wandering and Wondering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus wandering the rebel base on Yavin IV and wondering how he will be able to atone for his crimes

**Wandering and Wondering**

It was too darn hot on Yavin IV for Kallus’ liking, but the wind that blew through the trees surrounding the base made it bearable. The forests were a lot more peaceful than the base was; no one glared at him when he walked past. It wasn’t unexpected seeing as how he was a former Imperial -  _ once an Imperial, always an Imperial, _ his mind taunted. Kallus shook his head to try and clear the thoughts away - but he had expected people to at least be a little more understanding now they knew he was Fulcrum. It didn’t seem that way. Pilots and soldiers alike would turn heads as he passed, some whispering as they stared, whereas others just ignored him. People outside of Alliance Intelligence only paid attention to him when they needed him, or else he was just ignored. He rarely spoke up in meetings anymore. In the mess hall no one would sit anywhere near him, and he’d noticed how his rationed portions appeared smaller than that others got. Kallus ate his meals on the  _ Ghost  _ now, only going to the mess hall when they were low on supplies or the ship was off on a mission. 

The  _ Ghost  _ seemed to be the only team that paid him any sort of care, but they weren’t always around and he didn’t need someone to hold his hand whenever a rebel showed him distrust. They had every right to distrust him, what with his past. A past he was trying to make up for. When he worked, Kallus threw himself into it completely. He triple checked his decoding of Imperial transmissions, read and reread datapads to ensure their information was correct before handing them back. He would do tomorrow’s pile too if he had the time, getting a weeks worth of work done in the space of a few days. It meant missing meals unless Zeb was there to drag him to go eat, and sometimes he fell asleep at the desk he had been given, but it was worth it if it meant helping the rebellion. 

Unfortunately, getting his work done quickly left him with days where he had nothing to do. If he didn’t take on some work from the other Fulcrum agents, Kallus wandered the forests. There wasn’t much else he could do. He didn’t go near the main hangar because people stared at him. He didn’t go near the command centre unless asked for so people didn’t think he had ulterior motives. There wasn’t really anywhere else he could go, so that left the forests. They were quiet, and that gave Kallus a chance to think. Not that he really needed to, his mind was already berating his every move without him thinking any deeper. 

The sun had begun to set. Kallus turned on his heel and started heading back to the base, knowing if he wasn’t there by lights out the  _ Ghost  _ crew would get concerned.  _ Concerned that you’re sneaking off to sell information _ , his mind sneered. No. He would never do that. They had given him a place on their crew, in their family, and he was not about to lose what little trust he had with them. 

They should have thrown him into a cell the second he arrived at the base a month ago, pick his mind for information and the second he had no more, shoot a blaster bolt through his head and toss him out of an airlock. Why he was still alive, Kallus had no idea. Maybe he was useful enough that they deemed him worthy of keeping, but how long would he be able to keep that up for? He was out of commission for a week when he first arrived, his leg had barely healed fully but he was already insisting on working. They were trusting him with a weapon; Zeb gave him the holstered blaster when he was allowed to go on active duty. How long would it last?  _ It won’t last. You’ll run out of information for the Alliance to use and they will put you six feet underground without hesitation _ . Kallus squeezed his eyes shut. Why wouldn’t his mind just leave him alone? 

The walk back to the base was quick, and Kallus made a note of walking through the landing pads where people could see him instead of around them where he would be accused of sneaking if he had been noticed. The ramp of the Ghost was down and the moment he walked up, Chopper went speeding past with Ezra and Zeb chasing after him, both shouting about how they were going to dismantle the bucket of bolts. Sabine trailed behind them, something about keeping the idiots in check being muttered under her breath. Kallus shook his head and climbed the ladder, going carefully because of his leg. Hera was dishing up dinner. 

“Just in time, Kal, eat up,” she slid his plate to him. His portion was bigger than everyone else’s - except Zeb’s. Did she know about the mess hall situation? Rex probably told her, he was the only one Kallus had confided in about it. Kallus thanked her and tucked in. 

It felt nice to be treated as a friend instead of an outsider. Maybe if he stuck with the  _ Ghost  _ crew things would get easier elsewhere? He doubted it, but he felt safe on the ship. Safe with the crew around him. Everyone else joined them shortly after Kallus sat down. Zeb nudged his shoulder and plopped down next to him, Ezra and Sabine on the end of the table giving him playful glares which he found was their way of showing him affection - along with still calling him  _ Sergeant Sideburns _ , he would get them back for that soon - Kanan patted his shoulder and handed him a cup of water. 

Tomorrow, his mind would go back to berating him over every little thing he had ever done wrong. It would go back to telling him how no one really cared about him and that they would drop him at the first chance they got. But for now, Kallus saw with his new family and relished in the comfort he was feeling with them all around him. 


	7. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus has a nightmare and hears someone singing a lullaby and stroking his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton references! I couldn't help myself!

**Lullaby**

_ The hallways of the Star Destroyer seemed never ending, no matter how quickly Kallus ran through them. He was back in his old Imperial uniform, hair slicked back instead of loose like he wore it in the Rebellion. He had no weapons, and couldn’t stop running. It didn’t matter how much the hallway dragged on and on, Kallus just kept running.  _

_ Something smacked into his back, sending him falling onto his hands and knees as a cry of pain came out of his lips. Everything went dark for a mere moment before two lights flashed on. Kallus looked up from where he was kneeling. A woman with fair skin and dark hair, and a young boy with dark curls were forced to their knees, hands cuffed in front of them.  _

_ “Alexsandr?” The woman called out.  _

_ “Uncle?” The boy cried.  _

_ “Eliza? Philp!” Kallus tried to get to his feet but another kick sent him falling onto his stomach.  _

_ “All this could have been avoided,” came the familiar voice of Thrawn as the Chiss circled Kallus, stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back. Two blasters appeared at the prisoners’ heads.  _

_ “No!” Kallus cried, reaching a hand out but he found that he couldn’t move. It was like a heavy weight was crushing him, pinning him to the floor. His other limbs were useless.  _

_ “Alexsandr,” came the woman’s soft voice. Kallus looked to her, staring into her blue eyes. “It’s ok.” It wasn’t ok! She was going to die, so was her son, and it was all his fault! He failed them.  _

“Os ohk a ruerejan cei akohan dei oru vim,”  _ the woman sang, but not in a language Kallus knew. That was strange… What was she saying? Kallus’ eyes began to droop. Why was he suddenly tired? Was that a hand stroking his hair?  _ “Ke'arsehan guo eoh vilahur, bolnan cloklah ootay dei jek.”  _ The woman kept singing but it sounded… different. The voice itself was familiar and he trusted it, closing his eyes, letting sleep take over him.  _

_ “Ji jacquins ohk a lelkeka ceinireae kuklo ootay ji alb. Ji ikola bo tlersanka aola gis kue ji darsasa.”  _ On the Ghost, a gloveless hand stroked through Kallus’ sweaty hair, pushing it from his eyes as his features soothed out and the nightmare faded. He settled, but Hera kept stroking his hair, smiling softly.  _ “Ji t'ari ann ohk a lle'an ootay ji afa kuklo. Ke'arsehan guo eoh vilahur nihna kuklo bo anan...”  _ She trailed off at the end of the lullaby, slowly stopping her hand and pulling away. Kallus stirried, his eyes blinking open. 

“Eliza?” He muttered, blearily looking up at Hera. 

“Go to sleep, Kallus,” Hera hushed, and Kallus went back to sleep. She stayed a little longer, but once she was sure Kallus wouldn’t wake up again she left for her own cabin. Kanan was waiting for her. He held up the blanket for her and Hera snuggled into the Jedi’s arms. 

“Nightmare?” Kanan asked. 

“Yeah. He’s sleeping now,” Hera replied. The two drifted off. Kallus slept the rest of the night. 


	8. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus reflects on his past and the dreams he used to have, finding that they now kept him awake at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the first part of this one-shot sounds familiar it is because I used the same description of the district on Coruscant in my fic "The Butterfly Effect: Attack of the Clones". I had never expected to publish this and I really cannot be arsed to re-write it.

**Dreams**

_ Galactica Heights was not the most prosperous part of Coruscant. It was up farther north than the Federal District, not too far east of CoCo Town, and was situated at the end of the Broadway that ran through the Uscru Entertainment District. Unlike the areas around it, Galactica Heights was run down and often overlooked by the upper class of the planet. Abandoned houses were boarded up and forgotten about, tagged with graffiti from bored teenagers with nowhere else to go. Housing was expensive and the rent kept going up each year. Those who lived there often struggled to get by, barely making ends meet, but in the community everyone knew everyone and no one was left to suffer. They got by because they helped one another, and when the Clone Wars hit them and they found themselves as one of the many neighbourhoods suffering, they did what they did best and banded together. It wasn’t uncommon to see tables brought out as everyone ate dinner together on the streets, sharing what little they had with each other so no one went hungry. At night, you would hear the radios playing music out of the windows, residents singing along in many languages.  _

_ Long before the war began, a little boy and a little girl of about seven and five respectively would run through the streets of Galactica Heights and play. They knew the streets like the backs of their hands as they had grown up there all their lives. The local hover-cab company owners would wave as they passed, often letting the two come inside for some lemon-fizz and a snack. The ladies at the salon always let them play with the tooka that curled up in the window on the hot summer days. The nice lady at the corner store would give them a jogan fruit each and the two would call out “thanks, abuela” as they ran off to keep playing. These two children stood out amongst the other kids because the neighbourhood was predominantly made up of Festans who immigrated to the Republic capital. They were some of the few who didn’t have dark tanned skin and black hair, but the community loved them just as they did all children no matter the heritage. Their mother taught at the community school, one of the places worse affected by the war as facilities began to suffer. Electricity would flicker in and out, there were days without running water and basic teaching implements were getting harder and harder to come by.  _

_ The little boy and girl kept running through the streets and the back alleys. People rarely hung out back there but these two knew their way around. The little boy led the way, hand holding the little girl’s tightly. “Alex, where are we going?” the girl asked, but the boy just shushed her.  _

_ “I told you, Eliza, it’s a surprise!” Alex replied to Eliza.  _

_ “Mama’s not gonna be happy that we’re leaving the Heights!” Eliza hissed, but Alex kept running, pulling Eliza along with him. Soon they were in a completely new part of town, a much nicer looking part of the city. The houses were beautifully maintained, gardens growing on the balconies. These houses were rare on Coruscant, reserved for the richest who were lucky enough to have real gardens on the city planet. The people who walked past didn’t spare the children in their grubby clothes a second glance, ignoring them as they went about their days with their noses upturned into the air. Alex stopped outside some gates. Beyond them and the tall wall, a large house sat there, abandoned. It was overgrown with weeds from plants that once grew in the gardens and the porch was falling apart, paint peeling and wood rotting.  _

_ “Wow!” Eliza breathed out, her eyes widening as little hands grasped the railings of the gate. “That’s a really big house!” _

_ “It’s gonna be your house one day,” Alex told her, who looked up at her big brother with even wider eyes, “I’m gonna buy it for you when we’re big like Mama and we’re gonna fix it together.” _

_ “Where will you live?” Eliza asked, reaching to hold Alex’s hand.  _

_ “I’m gonna be travelling the Galaxy, but I’ll come visit,” Alex promised. The two turned and left before someone noticed they were missing. Their mother would be leaving work any moment and expecting the children home for dinner. _

Kallus stared up at the bunk above him, sighing as he wiped away a tear. That dream seemed to be impossible now. He had every intention of keeping his promise. 


	9. The Story of Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus makes friends with three annoyingly loud rebels on Yavin who invite him for a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Hamilton references! Sue me! (no please don't, I'm broke!)

**The Story of Tonight**

Kallus didn’t drink often, but the makeshift cantina that had been set up in one of the empty rooms of the massassi temple was dark, chilled from the cooling units and normally quiet until day shift got off. The way the rationing worked out, everyone got two free drinks of their choice a week. The rest you paid for with credits so they could buy more alcohol or by bringing your own alcohol to add to the supplies in exchange for drink tickets. It didn’t work out perfectly, but it worked enough that no one complained. Kallus found himself sitting on one of the back tables with a half glass of corellian whiskey in his hand and a datapad in the other. He was on the holonet scanning through the news infocache. He appeared to have made headlines with his defection, branded as armed and dangerous. Well, that put any undercover missions off the table for a long time. 

Kallus took a sip of his drink just as the doors burst open and in strode three rebels. They were all laughing and were extremely loud. One was a human male with dark hair wearing a mechanics overalls, another a blue-skinned twi-lek man in a flight suit. The third, who headed off to the bar, was also human but he had shocking white hair and wore standard rebel greens. The other two men seemed to notice Kallus and came over to his table, grins on their faces. 

“Hey, you’re that new guy over in Intelligence, right?” the mechanic asked Kallus, who nodded, “awesome! I’m Hari Malachi and this is Lasua,” the pilot smiled, “and that at the bar is Lawrence Jules.” The white-haired man walked over with a tray and three shot glasses on it. 

“Hey, Malachi, who’s this?” Lawrence asked, putting the tray down. 

“I’m Kallus,” Kallus introduced himself. Why were they talking to him? No one talked to him. Realisation hit Lawrence. 

“Ah, you’re the ex-Imp from Intelligence!” He said with a smile, passing the shots out, “welcome to the club, Kallus!”

Wait… they were formal Imperials too?

Lasua sat next to Kallus a little closer than he would have liked, but Kallus said nothing. They were all smiling and laughing as they talked, jokes flying back and forth. Malachi’s overalls had a Rebel logo patch on the right shoulder that was slightly peeling off, revealing the Imperial emblem it was hiding. Lasua’s flight suit was the standard Imperial black, but had been patched up with swabs of colour where the Imperial logo would have been before. He’d also rolled up the sleeves and cuffs of the trousers. Lawrence’s gloves, although they were missing the fingers, were the same ones that Kallus had with his old uniform. He;d recognise the material from miles away. 

There were more? Kallus wasn’t the only defector!

How long Kallus had been at the cantina for, he had no idea. Unlike the others who were intent on getting absolutely wasted, Kallus only had a few drinks himself. Lasua looked like he was one drink away from passing out, whereas Malachi and Lawrence were less drunk but still very out of it. They had started singing and swaying, thoroughly enjoying themselves as they pulled Kallus into their huddle, making the Coruscanti laugh and join in with the words he could make out. It was some ballad about how they were gonna kick the Empire’s backside and help the Rebellion to win. 

“Raise a glass to freedom!” a drunk Lawrence sang out, raising his shot glass up high, “something they can never take away! No matter what they tell you,”

“Raise a glass to the four of us,” Malachi continued, and all four of them raised their glasses with a cheer, “tomorrow there’ll be more of us! Telling the story of tonight,”

“Let’s have another round tonight,” Lasua said loudly. Kallus shook his head. 

“I’d love to but you’re all about to pass out,” he told them. The three rebels groaned but they finished their drinks and all got up, stumbling towards the door. Kallus helped Lasua to walk. They all trudged through to the barracks, singing under their breaths, and Kallus helped each of them into their cabins.

With his new friends safely in their beds, Kallus made his way back to the  _ Ghost _ , a song on his lips. “...  _ raise a glass to freedom _ …” he sang, smiling wide. The alcohol was hitting him a bit harder when the air hit him, but he felt happy. It was nice to know he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t the only defector in the Rebellion. “ _...something they can never take away… _ ” Kallus climbed up the ramp of the  _ Ghost  _ and headed to the galley to get a glass of water and some pain tablets. He was gonna need them in the morning. “ _... no matter what they tell you… _ ” Kallus collapsed onto the bunk in Kanan’s room - the Jedi still bunking with Hera - and stared up at the ceiling. “ _... raise a glass to the four of us… tomorrow there’ll be more of us… telling the story of tonight… _ ” 

Maybe things were looking up after all. 


End file.
